Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Christmas traditions

When Grace was born, we were still living in Israel and brought her over to the party at the Ambassador's house to meet Santa Clause. She was less than impressed.  In 2006, we had just had Eleanor, so we decided against a trek out to the malls or parties to look for Santa.  While I was pregnant with Jordan we went down to the mall and visited a Santa in the mill of the shopping chaos. While Grace understood that the big guy was going to give her a candy cane if she let us take her picture, the torched was passed to Eleanor to shriek in horror at Santa. 

Last year, I took you and your sisters over to Beth's house and we were visited by Santa.  Your dad was in Iraq so I had all three of you lovelies on my own.  You were very well behaved and I had lots of extra helping hands, but it was still a bit stressful for me.  Despite being raised all over the place, I've got that good New England guilt in me that makes me want you to be perfectly behaved in social settings so as not to detract from the experience for others. 

Before you take this straight to your therapists, I know this is impossible.  And unrealistic. But I have every faith that you girls can behave yourselves.  Even when super duper excited.  Even when in a group of other kids. Even while wearing twirly skirts.  Just maybe not on a sugar high. 

So last year it was three against one and I was exhausted by the end of

 the evening. This year your dad moved heaven and earth to make it to this party (and if I didn't apologize to him a thousand times in person, here it is in writing. I'm sorry about my cruddy attitude. You made sure you worked that schedule, you were brilliantly Machiavellian and worked that group to have them leave earlier on Friday and come in on Saturday and you made it to the party. I should have had more faith. ) and were two on three.  I got to sit down and talk to other people. I got to watch your girls run amuck and I love watching you meet Santa again. 

And Jordan upheld the family name. 

Mommy is....

Mommy is ticked. No, scratch that. Mommy is frustrated. And angry. And perturbed. Not at your father, but at a situation that has been caused by your father's job. 

My off again, on again, off again and resulting disdainful relationship with the Marine Corps will probably not be a secret by the time you guys are older. I respect your father and most of the people that I meet who are Marines. I can appreciate the core values of the Corps and the excellent leaders they develop and the difficult missions they accomplish.  What I don't appreciate is the way they screw with my life. 

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not going to bite the hands that feed us. Sure, I pointed out a few idiotic things that the USMC does with the National Military Family Association (your mom is such an anonymous rebel) but your father loves his job and I'm going to support him. And I do mean LOVES his job. That is rare in this world.  And while the Marine Corps has it's negative quirks that are unique to it, I am fully aware that employment elsewhere or self employment would also hold different challenges. 

That being said.....

Mommy is frustrated. Six weeks ago Miss Beth and I started planning an evening with Santa at her house.  We did it last year and got to skip the traffic at the mall, the waiting in line and the rush, rush, rush.  Foolish me, I was lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that I checked every one's schedule, put it on the home calendar, called in and put in on your Dad's schedule and have been talking about it every week since.   Unfortunately, the almighty Marine Corps has called on your dad to be part of board for two weeks and is now coming home around seven, seven thirty every night. Not only do we have a naked Christmas tree because I'm loathe to decorate it without him (again) but he hardly gets to see you girls. This also means he is going to miss the party. 

He's promised that he is going to try and get everyone motivated to leave at five on Friday but that is no guarantee. All it takes is one guy to want to push through and work and your dad is stuck. I understand. Really I do. But that doesn't change the fact that Mommy is ticked. Or angry.  And frustrated.  How many more years until he retires?

Christmas Pajamas

 Every year, Aunt Michelle sends you guys the best Christmas pajamas. Joy! 

Time flies

You amaze me.  I had to do a double take today when we pulled back your hair with a headband. When did you get so big?  I know it sounds ridiculous and cheesy, but I cannot believe how quickly you three are growing up.  Eleanor turns three in less than a month and Jordan will be two in January.  Two years old is not a baby.  What happened to my baby?  When did this happen?  

I can remember bringing Grace home from the hospital. How tiny she was and fit in the crook of my arm.  Now she's such a big girl who feeds Emily every night,  puts away the silverware from the dishwasher and helps with folding all my folded napkins.  Eleanor was so tiny and now she is a bundle of energy who never sits still unless she's fallen asleep.  And Jordan.  She's my baby. I don't care what you people say. 

Monday, Monday

I just got back from returning dvds to the store.  The whole house is quiet, your dad has you three up in the bath.  Emily and the smell of roasted garlic and chicken met me at the door.  Yum.

We had a good day today. I cleaned out the office while you guys ran around on your bikes in the garage. You helped me relocate all the sewing room/crafting supplies downstairs and played around with the blocks and the doll house while I tried to make sense of the chaos I've created down there. I gave up the shifting around of stacks and re piling the piles after about twenty minutes and we came up to make lunch for our friends Beth, Sophie and Ben who came to visit.  After that, it was a bit of clean up in the kitchen and throwing the chickens in the oven while Miss Beth took all of you in the back yard to keep you from getting salmonella poisioning from hugging me. 

Not an exciting day, but fun. A productive day with little pieces of art, little naps and a very, very spicy squash soup with chipotle peppers for dinner. Yes, your dad asked for chicken on his soup.  

And Jordan dressed herself today.  I think the preschool mornings are going to be challenging. 

Baby Gates

We had a huge milestone in our house today. We took down the very last baby gate in our house. Jordan has been going up and the down the stairs like a champ and I am a little less paranoid about Grace and Eleanor missing the door for the bathroom and accidentally falling down the stairs in the middle of the night. The cheap Ikea gates were removed months ago, their metal rod that we had to step across not missed as we tried to go into the basement or up to our room.

So we finally removed the swinging gate upstairs. Of course, by "we" I mean Eleanor and Grace and by "removed" I mean hung on and swung so forcibly that it was ripped out of the wall.